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Solitude Man Mar 2018
A landscape between two
Bridges the distance between
Me and you
And these imperfect minds alike
Aren’t too far away
To hear a perfect lover’s cry
Or a sweet melody in the night

A landscape between two
Cannot tame the ripe waves of ecstasy
Or the light rays up above
Oh yes!
I see the sunken ship
On top the sea
And I see an anchored love
From my landscaped view

A landscape between two
Bridges the distance between
Me and you
And the birds chirp
While the earth turns
The  faithful flute plays
Towards a landscape between two

                                         - Lily Bajo
the snow's cold blanket
wrapped a biting winter  
chill around the land
J Feb 2018
The sun beamed at the meadow with blissful happiness
As I rested by bones, bathed in warmth, the aroma of grass seasoned slightly by water droplets found itself comfortably in my nostrils

Seas of time seemed to stretch out before me with welcoming arms
The perfect tranquility, the soft breeze accompanied with the swaying of the flowers like some rhythmic dance.

Green trees and foliage delighted to see me as I strolled by.
Just over the dip a pond could be seen, jubilantly conversing with lazy dragon flies.

Berries springing from every bush like glimmering jewels residing peacefully in a crown of leaves.
The tactile curiosity of an ant navigating the plains of my palm.

The blue sky stretching vastly in front of me yet seemed as though it was a canvas, waiting for my imagination to paint

A place where time stops.
Wanted to create a landscape poem.
Em Quinn Feb 2018
my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my hands hold crumbling wheat fields.
each plant destroyed by a sun that shines too bright.
the roots are torn up along my fingertips.

my eyes carry empty oceans.
once full of life, purpose.
the corpses of dreams lay scattered along the iris,
battered by flame.

my wrists are a crime scene,
life ripped away in a single, crisp action.
hanging from each violet vein is a rope of red intention.
skin pulled by string, a tightrope of regret.

my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my body is...
a landscape of colour,
a sky of regret,
a sun that destroys everything in its path.

but my mind is a crimson sky,
a beautiful sunset,
masking the truth.
i don't think much about the future anymore, its getting harder to see.
Star BG Feb 2018
  in walls of an open mind,
readying myself for take off.
Clouds vanished before third eye.
Propeller-like breath moved
into landscape beautiful.

In walls of kaleidoscope sky
Drifting in a place beyond reality.
Time stopped, as rainbow waterfalls hugged eyes.
Winds sculptured masterpieces
Florissant white materialized.

In walls of an open mind,
I was captured in a sacred place.
Pulsations of love bathed my aura.
Peaceful energies filled conscious mind.

My jet of self was on course
orchestrated well by spirits compass
Angels gave blessings grand.
Love fueled vessel
guiding me inside grace.

In walls of an open mind
I gathered all senses
as heartbeat played
to celebrate my landing
inside the new day sun..
First poem of the day. Happy reading.
Yasin Jan 2018
Thinking about the job
How bad the treatment is
Everything's too materialistic
Of course resign is an option
Mhhm... maybe next week
*******, now it's raining
outside the frame

Next to the employee, petite brat
After a while he observes the landscape
The shifting mountains, the rippling sea and the mysterious forest.
The curious boy smiles and shouts
Why do you look at me? Look outside
I know Mont Blanc is stunningly beautiful.
No just look outside - the rain is so sad.
Ronald J Chapman Jan 2018
With you, always in my dreams,
You and me standing, at the edge of a
bamboo forest,

Listening to the sounds of a thousand
flutes, as the wind blows softly,
singing a lullaby at sunrise,
carrying soft memories, from a distant land.

As the sun rises, I look around.
Where have you gone, my dream?
Have you gone home to where fantasies live?

A sad but beautiful place,
of snow-capped mountains
and fields of golden grain,

Where rainbows shine, all day,
And thunder sounds, all night?

A place where you dream of you and me
standing tall at the edge of a blue ocean, looking west
with ocean waves singing a loving lullaby, as the sun sets…

Copyright © 2018 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Trail of the Angels - Bamboo Flute Chinese Music ( Xiao )https://youtu.be/ABOxTtxJxNw
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